hatchet

I am an ocean of sounds,
a black roiling graveyard:
I suck at your ankles
with a smirk and a pop.

you feel my lungs,
heavy illustrious machines,
in the tow beneath your feet
and for a second I think I
have you.


but you open your mouth
in a foreign tongue, displaying
the message, the martyr, the faint
hypocritical twinge;

a lopsided carnival
rioting along your teeth.


I reel back my waves
with a gasp.